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I nod and return to the bedroom, gathering my suit jacket. I pause at the door, one hand on the frame. “I’ll have two men with you at all times. I’m just taking one.”
“There’s no need,” Carina says from the couch. “I’ll be fine. They don’t know where I am.”
I take a half step toward her. “Don’t argue with me,” I bite out. She can’t make anything simple.
“I can take care of myself, Luca.”
Once again, I see the bullet hole where Carina’s head had been in the car. The blood pouring from her dog. There is nothing weak about Carina, but she underestimates how cruel men can truly be. How far we’re willing to go for our crowns and power. I bite back my instinctive, angry response and instead look at the floor, measuring my words. “I don’t want to leave you alone with no one watching your back. It goes against everything in me—“
“Luca.” Her voice is soft, and I look up, meeting her eyes. “I’ll take one man. I’ll be okay.”
I walk over to her and plant a hard kiss on the crown of her head. “I have to go.”
Twoofmysecuritysit across from me at a nearby table. I left the third member with Carina as agreed, but I organized more to follow her. I can’t extend too many, as it won’t go unnoticed when half of my security personnel are missing and tailing Carina. Three men will have to do, for now.
The waiter arrives at my table with a drink of brandy. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. As I sit waiting for the agent yet again, I glance around the Bastoni e Pietre.
It looks like Italy threw up in here, only Americanized. White linen tablecloths, gilt finishes, dark wood grains. Chubby-cheeked statues of cherubs in alcoves holding trailing greenery.
My men keep glancing around them. Regardless of the restaurant’s neutral ground status, they’re on guard against danger. I can’t blame them. We’re all antsy, and they lost three comrades yesterday at the Pits. How many more will die because of that place?
I pick up the brandy and swirl the brown liquid in the glass. The liquid favors one side before it sloshes to the other.
I can’t fathom Evie going to such lengths to preserve our arrangement. It has to be Geno behind everything. The attempts on Carina’s life. The killing of the three men at the Pits. How stupid is he? I’m not clear on the point the idiot is trying to prove, but he has to understand that the punishment for this affront won’t just land on his shoulders but his family’s, too. That is quite the risk.
I take a sip, and the burn along the back of my throat is instant. Glancing over the rim of my glass, I slowly lower it to the table as the agent enters the restaurant. One of my security approaches him and pats him down. He doesn’t object; he knows the drill at this stage. My man removes a gun, which will be given back at the end of this meeting.
When the agent, his expression sour, takes his seat across from me, I down the remainder of the brandy. The glass clicks on the smooth tabletop when I set it down between us, but he doesn’t flinch.
“You were a no-show yesterday. Why was that?” I watch his every reaction as he answers my questions. I didn’t miss that the one day he didn’t show up to one of our meetings, I nearly died.
“I was on another job.” He doesn’t blink, but there is tension in his shoulders, shrouded in a long beige jacket.
I glance at the waiter who’s standing by, waiting. I raise the empty glass and hold up two fingers. “Care to elaborate?” I ask, even though I know he won’t. It’s really none of my business, but I just want to wipe any doubt that he could be behind this out of my mind.
I turn my gaze back at the agent. He’s looking at me dead in the eye. “I was given a command to follow Carina Scarpetta to the Pits. The order was to kill.”
I close my eyes. His death flashes in the most brutal of ways behind my eyelids as I struggle to keep myself in the seat. A gun is too quick. Perhaps a blade, flaying his skin from his bones with painstaking pressure. Or a hammer, first, that liquefies every joint.
When I open my eyes, the waiter has placed the glasses of brandy in front of me and removed the empty one.
My lip tugs up, but I’m sure I look feral. I twirl the glass to allow myself a moment to calm the fuck down. I need this agent. Ripping his head from his shoulders would be satisfying, but it would also bring the commissioner down on my head.
“You do realize that you were shooting at me last night.”
This time, the agent has the balls of steel and smiles at me. “Yeah, but not one hit you, Luca. For a reason. I could have killed you ten times over, but I know it would cause the sky to land on the ground, and I like breathing.”
The sky would land on the ground if Carina was shot, too. I don’t voice my anger.
“Three of my men are dead.” I pick up the glass of brandy and take a deep swallow, emptying the glass completely.
My anger hasn’t subsided, and I reach across and take the agent’s drink.
“I could have used a drink, buddy,” he says.
I lick some brandy from my lips and lean in close. “We aren’t fucking buddies. This is a simple business situation. You dance to someone’s drums, drums that I often beat.” I finish his brandy and place the empty glass in front of him.
“I’m sorry about your men. But I had a kill order for Carina. They got in the way. I tried not to take those shots.”
